


The Commander’s Diary

by FreeTheMages



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Diary/Journal, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21730579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeTheMages/pseuds/FreeTheMages
Summary: Cullen Rutherford’s personal diary.I wrote a little diary entry in an RP and thought I’d post it here. I might add more, so I guess it’s ongoing. Will include references to a relationship with a male Trevelyan.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Male Trevelyan, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Male Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 67
Kudos: 79





	1. 24th Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I’m posting on here! Likely at some point a relationship with a Male Inquisitor Trevelyan will be at least referenced. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this little thing

24th Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon 

Satinalia approaches swiftly, and I have yet to think of an appropriate gift for the Inquisitor. Is it even appropriate that I give a gift at all? I am not certain. However, a shred of normalcy amongst these turbulent times may indeed be just the poultice we _all_ need.   
Lady Josephine has doubtless procured a small something for everybody within the inner circle at least. Whilst I rarely find myself with the spare time to consider devoting it to such a cause, I find myself wishing to. It has been a long time since I last celebrated Satinalia.   
If only I had even an inkling at what he would like. Perhaps new tools to maintain his armour? I’m unversed in the matter but I do not think that mages’ staves require any sort of regular care. I might ask Dorian. He may be able to help once he gets the sarcasm out of his system. I certainly dare not approach Madame De Fer with this- the woman is incredibly intimidating at the best of times. Still, I must speak to a mage. For all the time I have spent living amongst them, I find myself entirely ignorant of their fancies. I must also remember to write Mia for the holiday. If I do not, she will kill me before this blighted war has the chance to.   
Lastly, I must remember to make every effort to ‘Sera-proof’ my office and quarters. The elf strikes me as one who may be a little too eager to follow the traditions of Feast Day pranking. 


	2. 26th Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

26th Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

The Inquisition forces continue to grow in number. It is encouraging to see so many young men and women so willing and eager to devote themselves to the cause. I will not see them go without the proper training and equipment as is befitting for a task such as this. Hole in the sky be damned, our men will face foes few can ever hope to understand; it is absolutely vital they receive every possible advantage. 

I met with Dorian today for a game of wit during what I had hoped would be a brief but welcome respite in an otherwise busy day. The man is incorrigible. I asked a simple question that required a simple answer, but of course that is not what I received. So delighted was he at the reddening of my face, that I dare say I’ll not see him without that smug grin on his face until the Maker returns to us. The kinds of ‘gifts’ he suggested I give to the Inquisitor are not things I am willing to write down here, and I’m still none-the-wiser about what to do.

After enduring myriad innuendos regarding mages and their staves, I gave up, even conceding the game of chess we were playing, the quicker to be away from him. Thankfully this particular game was not interrupted by Trevelyan himself as our last was, or I may have had to hand in my resignation for the embarrassment. 

Maker’s breath, why is this so difficult? Am I not a grown man? 

Perhaps I ought not to give him anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! Do let me know what you think, I appreciate it.


	3. 30th Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

30th Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

After wracking my brain for the last few days, I have decided to gift the Inquisitor some bulbs of crystal grace. Beautiful as the flower is, I did not wish to give a mere bouquet of dying stems. Instead I made a requisition for a small number of the bulbs to be collected from Hafter’s Wood. They are most numerous there, after all. Thankfully they were delivered to Skyhold post haste and I managed to strike them from the list given to Trevelyan. As far as I’m aware, he has no inkling. Maker, I hope he likes them. They seem so mundane sat in a pouch before me now. Still, they will grow into their beauty as he has grown into his. Title, that is.

It is the big day tomorrow. Josephine has been in a mad dash all morning and afternoon making sure that everything is perfect for the mighty feast. I must admit, the smell coming from the kitchens is most mouth-watering. Even Cassandra said as much whilst we were sparring earlier. I rarely see her respond to such frivolity, but she certainly seems to be getting into the spirit of it all; I think she even conceded the match for me, not that I require such relinquishment to win.

It will be strange to go an entire day without duties or meetings. Grateful as I am, I’m sure that it was not necessary to put aside the _entire_ day. I may slip away for a time to get some of the pile of reports on my desk finished and categorised, certainly nobody would notice. Except perhaps Leliana.

On second thoughts, perhaps not. She seems to believe I do not know how to have fun, and has ordered _in no uncertain terms_ that I am not to do any business for the entirety of Satinalia. I ought to be thankful we didn’t choose to base ourselves in Antiva, I suppose. 

Andraste provide me with the strength to survive the day unmarked and decent. I am sure to need it where Sera’s pranks are concerned.


	4. 1st Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

1st Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

I’d had my doubts about today, but it has proved to be most enjoyable. The food was delicious, and the company merry.  
We exchanged our gifts in the evening after we’d had our fill of festive foodstuffs. As I write this I can barely move for the cornucopia I poured down my gullet. Josephine gifted me with more of that shortbread, which was kind of her; though I shan’t be eating another crumb for at least a week.  
I received a number of gifts this year. It is not something I am used to. Though none put together were more surprising or pleasing as the Inquisitor’s. He presented me with a new pair of gloves, and a beautifully decorated scabbard that perfectly matched my longsword and armour, and was even inscribed with my initials and the phrase ‘For the Inquisition’. I do not know when or how he managed to have it fitted to the sword that rarely leaves my person, but to say I wasn’t overcome would be a lie. Never in my life have I received such a thing.  
I was almost ashamed, then, to hand him my gift of the crystal grace bulbs. Still, his face lit up and he declared them to be his favourite flower. I’d honestly had no idea. Perhaps the Maker Himself guided my decision.  
Once all gifts were handed out, the merriment continued with ample drinking. Trevelyan and I spent a great deal of time speaking with one another. We discussed our childhoods and our experiences of circle life -though not _all_ of it- as well as the progress made on Skyhold’s fortifications. The alcohol was flowing freely and the air giddy with excitement, and for a moment I thought he was going to... no. That is ridiculous. What a notion!

Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice that the flush in my cheeks came from anywhere but the bottle in my hand, and I was spared embarrassment.

In all, I can say with absolute certainty, it was the best Feast Day I have ever had.


	5. 2nd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

2nd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon 

I may have overindulged on the mead and wine last night. Interestingly enough, the pounding behind my temples from the hangover is an almost pleasant deviation from the usual lyrium induced headaches. 

I have been unable to tear my gaze from my sword’s new scabbard during any reprieve from paperwork. It truly is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received. 

The Inquisitor has been with the mage recruits since this morning and so the only war council meeting for today is scheduled after dinner. It seems that while we enjoyed a day or so off duty for Satinalia, our rookery was not so lucky. We received myriad correspondence over the last few days, much of which only now is being fully sorted. Thankfully, many letters seem to be seasonal well-wishes; we should not have a great deal to discuss at the war table. 

Trevelyan has also asked me to help him see to the care of the crystal grace bulbs after all business is done for the day. I accepted, but only on the promise that all work would be completed first. I admit, the kind offer of a social call was most appreciated, and I find myself looking forward to it. Tending to Skyhold’s garden is an important responsibility after all, and though it is not mine, I see no reason to bar myself from assisting with such matters from time to time.


	6. 2nd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon (again)

2nd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon (again)

It is midnight, and I am just now returned to my quarters. The council meeting wrapped up relatively quickly as there was not an awful lot of business to attend to. I therefore agreed to accompany Trevelyan to the garden.

He first requested that I select an ideal spot in which to place the bulbs. Admittedly, I know very little of botany and assumed that they simply needed a place with sunshine and some warmth, like many such plants that flower in the months leading up to the summertime. He said he was impressed to hear me confess to lacking in any sort of knowledge, and I cannot decide how I should take such a comment. 

There was an ideal patch just off from the herb garden, and so we planted three bulbs there. He insisted I help him smooth over the soil, and for a brief moment, our hands touched. I do not know why, but my hand lingered there longer than I intended. He must have noticed, but he simply gave me a quick smile. His face was becoming rather red from the cold, and I said as much, and that we shouldn’t linger outside for too long. His response to that was laughter. I do not know what I did that was so amusing, I’m sure, but I admit that the sound wasn’t at all unpleasant.

The Inquisitor decided to save a number of bulbs for the future and to plant some in pots so he could relocate them to various places once they had approached their bloom. After this, we walked back to his quarters, where he had already prepared a warm fire and some hot tea. It was an unexpected gesture, but a welcome one. 

We sat on the chaise with our tea and spoke about our day, and all manner of other things. He caught me absentmindedly thumbing my new scabbard as we talked and commented that he was glad I liked it so very much. If the heat I felt rise into my cheeks was any indication, I must have resembled beetroot. 

All in all, the conversation was pleasant and free-flowing, and I before I knew it, I had been there for several hours. This is not something I am used to. I do not tend to find socialisation easy, but with the Inquisitor, it is effortless. I do not know what to make of it, in truth.

When I realised just how late it had gotten, and decided that I really did need to retire for the night, I found myself unsure of how to excuse myself; indeed I was reluctant to go. I stood up and thanked the Inquisitor for the tea in a manner so painfully formal that I am utterly mortified to think of it. I  _ shook the man’s hand _ . 

Maker’s breath, I am a fool. In fact, I believe I can confidently say that I am the most maladroit man in Skyhold. How am I to face him in the morning, or  _ Andraste preserve me, _ what if he tells Leliana and Josephine? I’ll never hear the end.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to write up some of the scenes that Cullen mentions in his diary as a separate piece here on AO3 at some point, because I can see it all in my head and I want to share how it all actually happens, but Cullen of course would not do (or even be able to do) this in his diary.   
> Let me know what you think so far! I am really enjoying this format even though it presents many challenges as far as storytelling goes. This chapter is about as forthcoming as I can perceivable push Cullen without being completely OOC. I hope I am managing to stay true to his character as I navigate this!


	7. 10th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

10th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon  
  


The past few days have been particularly slow, and I find myself at a loss for what to do. The mid-afternoons have been especially tedious. 

I sparred with Cassandra today, early in the morning before the recruits awoke. I didn’t want spectacle, I wanted peace; nothing clears the head like some good old fashioned sword play. She almost beat me too, I must be out of practice.

The Inquisitor left Skyhold again in the early hours of 3rd, rather urgently, I might add, and I feel guilty for preventing him from having an early night.

As it was, his departure benefited me; it prevented him from talking about my faux pas to my colleagues, which is a blessing, I suppose. He will likely have forgotten about it by the time he returns.

His absence leaves Skyhold feeling rather empty- I hadn’t noticed before. And with Dorian, The Iron Bull, and Solas gone with him, I am short on chess partners. Leliana is a sore loser I’m afraid, and Josephine never seems to have the time to play. Maker, that woman is even busier than I am.

Cole has begun sending me notes via the scouts. He seems trustworthy enough after Haven, but I admit I am afraid of what he could be. I do not know if I can truly relax around a self-confessed spirit of the Fade. Though there is something to be said of his honesty; his sentences usually do not make so much sense. What is stranger is that the scouts never seem to remember where they got the notes from. It is quite unnerving to know he can erase the memory of his existence at the drop of a hat. Maker help us if he is not truly on our side…

I checked the garden last night, foolishly wondering if any of the bulbs had started to sprout. After mere days! I do not know why I did this. It is strange, I suppose, waiting for the growth of something beautiful in such a tumultuous time. Perhaps I was over-anxious to see survival despite the odds. In many ways, a bulb surviving winter is an excellent symbol for the Inquisition. At least, one hopes so.


	8. 12th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is struggling.
> 
> tw for withdrawals and addiction.

12th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

Maker curse these infernal headaches! No herb, potion or tincture touches them, and I cannot work to the best of my abilities with my head set aflame; the Inquisition deserves more than this. The people -my colleagues and indeed all those in Skyhold- deserve more than this. And yet I cannot give that to them. I have scarcely slept these past days, and each morning at first light I find that my pain has grown immeasurably. My hands have taken to intermittent palsies and my sweat is demonstrably enough in volume to drown a small nug. I do not know what to do. 

I hear the lyrium around Skyhold singing to me. In the templar recruits, in the stockrooms, in my own office. My throat is permanently parched and my blood aches in my veins. Twice I have had to hand over training to another when I felt faintness grip me. It seems that even now, I have not truly shaken my chantry shackles. I want no part of the Order, and I want no part of the lyrium leash. Yet, it calls to me like a siren even as I scream in terror during the fleeting, fitful moments of sleep that I actually manage. My rare moments of unconscious peace- if you can call it that- provide no rest, no relief. I feel myself growing weaker. I do not know how to continue in this manner. I don’t know if I _want_ to.

My kit is in the drawer next to me as I write this. I could take it. I _should_ take it. It would be a simple and easy thing to do. It would provide sweet, blessed relief from this dreadful, desperate pining. I should do it. I know that I should. I am weak in this state, it is my lot in life since being ensnared at such an early age to make a decision that would rule over the rest of my life. I knew I would have to pay for that decision eventually. _But I don’t want to._

_Fuck it all._

I said as much to Cassandra. She refuses to see reason. I am useless in this state, but she would have me continue to command the army; the same one that is supposed to be the last hope of Thedas. Does she not realise how foolish that is? I should resign, but something tells me she wouldn’t have that either. 

I am finding myself more and more incapable of even masking the torment in my head- Josephine asked me if I was alright in a Council meeting today. Apparently I looked deeply troubled. I waved her off and claimed to have a mere mild headache. I doubt the keen-eyed woman believed me, but she did not challenge me. That is to say nothing of Lady Nightingale, who cast concerned glances at me throughout the whole meeting. She is not one to spare such concern where she doesn’t deem it entirely necessary; that as much as anything else concerns me- and it should concern Cassandra as well. 

Thank the maker that the Inquisitor isn’t here. I cannot have him see me like this. I cannot have him know of my utter weakness. 


	9. 15th-20th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen continues to struggle with his lyrium addiction- not that he is willing to properly discuss it, even with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features several diary entries, as they are significantly shorter than usual. I hope this very slight format change is alright. Rest assured that it is not going to remain like this. 
> 
> Thanks to the lovely people of The Hanged Man discord for helping me figure out a couple of things about this particular entry!

15th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

Inquisitor’s return is likely to be delayed. Nobody is sure how long for. Things were much more tense than expected. 

Received a letter from Mia. Haven’t opened it yet. Mustn’t be distracted from work. 

17th Firstfall

I haven’t slept in 3 days. My hands won’t stop ~~shakeing~~ shaking for more than a few minutes at a time. Paperwork piling up. Tried to eat some bread, couldn’t keep it down 

Cassandra has taken over the recruits’ sessions for now Too useless to even stand and- _(an ink blot has smeared over the next few words, they cannot be made out. The word ‘fuck’ is written underneath in a large, thick, and messy hand with too much force on the paper)_

__

18th Firstfall 

__

__

I got so angry. Leliana struck my face. I left the war room cant tolerate the presing. Mg head feels broken Unending pain

__

__

19th Firstfall.

__

__

_(a small spot of ink from where the pen touched first touched the paper is all that lies under this date)_

__

__

20th firstfall

__

“Intervention”. Im beyond help. Cassandra Leliana and Varric forced me into a tiny room with them. They wouldnt listen. I panicked. 

__

Woke up to a mage over me healing my broken nose. Sweat endless. Head feels worse than ever. Varrics trying to make me take mild poison to sleep ~~properley~~ properly. Pointless, it won’t work. Nothing ever does.

__


	10. 22nd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some artificially acquired sleep, Cullen's mind appears to be more his own again, if just about.

22nd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

Blessed Andraste, I slept last night! It was fitful, but I was completely unconscious for perhaps four hours combined. The stuff that Varric forced me to take was ghastly- of course, it was a poison. It burned my tongue and made me cough up half of my lungs, but it did the trick, at least a little. He threatened me with a less diluted vial for tonight, to “really knock you out, and give you some nice curly chest hairs.”

I have chest hair. I just don’t parade it about with a half open shirt like the dwarf does.

Thanks to the modicum of rest I managed, my vision is a lot less blurry and the migraine has retreated back to my temples with not nearly as much fire as yesterday. I still do not feel like I could keep anything more than a light broth down, but I feel more coherent- that has to count for something. I can think upon more than just the pain and desperate need for lyrium to soothe my veins. It calls my name even now, though I can at least dampen the sound and the pull with enough distraction.

I must apologise to Josephine for my behaviour at the last war council meeting I attended. She was concerned for me. I am… not used to this. Leliana was absolutely right to strike my face and snap me out of it -though I don’t believe _quite_ so much force was needed- I am still slightly bruised.

If they’d just allow me back to my duties, it would be marvellous. I cannot afford - _we_ cannot afford- to be falling behind. The army needs its commander. Or _A_ commander, at any rate. That is a whole different pack of mabari. All this time without distraction does me no benefit regardless.

I am thankful for this moment of clarity, where writing doesn’t take such a heavy toll. Journaling has always been somewhat cathartic. Without it, everything feels so much heavier and indigestible. Perhaps that makes me weak, but I would not argue with that assertion in any case. I _am_ weak, the past few days have proved as much.  
I am still thankful that the Inquisitor isn’t here; though I know that I will have to inform him of my problem, even if the particulars are left out. I owe him -and the Inquisition- honesty. I do not relish the thought. 

I pray to the Maker and the Holy Andraste, _please_ let the worst of it be behind me.


	11. 23rd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things appear to be looking up for the Commander.

23rd Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

I was finally allowed to resume my duties today, upon the promise that I would not over exert myself.   
Honestly, it is like they think me a child. It’s incredibly frustrating. I suppose I ought to be grateful that they care -and I am, of course- but I am not used to such coddling, and I don’t believe I will ever find it anything short of irritating. 

The Inquisitor has sent word of his imminent return from Val Royeaux; the correspondence arrived three days ago, but nobody saw fit to inform me. We should expect the party to return in two or three days. That is time enough for me to return to normal, I hope. I feel a little better again today, aside from the cravings. I know that I will have to tell the Inquisitor about everything regardless, but I hope to be in more of a fit state to be seen when the time comes. 

I do not wish for pity. The man is endlessly compassionate, which ordinarily is a good thing; I simply would prefer not to burden him, or have him bear witness to my weakness even if he must know of its existence. 

I took a stroll through the gardens this morning when I could sleep no longer. It was nice to get some fresh air, and it felt serene, even with my palpitations. I was delighted to see the barest hint of a green shoot peeking out from the soil where the crystal grace bulbs are planted. Perhaps there is room to hope, yet. 

I have a war council meeting to attend in approx. two hours time. Maker, it feels good to be of some use again. 


	12. 24th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

24th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

If anybody had told me two years ago that I would be happy to see a pile of paperwork upon my desk, I would have thought them a liar or an idiot. 

Ordinarily, such things are a nuisance; I prefer to be active, though unfortunately paperwork is a necessary part of my position. At present, it signifies something of a return to normal, whatever that may mean. Normal is comforting, even if it comes in the form of an endless paper trail, pestering runners and recruits, and having my ear talked off by two very stubborn women. It is a relief to not be treated as though I were made of china. 

I was also able to take over a small training exercise today, though Cassandra still insisted upon maintaining the majority of the work with the recruits outside of this one session. It is something. Being able to swing my longsword once more was very cathartic, even if it left me more breathless than usual. 

A group of scouts have been sent to West Hill today, to retrieve more of the rebel mage refugees seeking a place within the Inquisition. As I understand it, some hail from Kirkwall. I am concerned, chiefly because my presence will doubtless prove uncomfortable for them. I cannot say I blame them. What I was back then… I pray to the Maker that all will be well, and that the mages already present can provide comfort and reassurance. Were I them, I certainly wouldn’t trust me at my own word, no matter how sincere it was; I just hope that in time, all can heal. It is what I am fighting for, is it not? The breach in the sky is not the only open wound in need of stitches, after all. Whatever Knight Captain Cullen was, I intend for his corpse to remain under the rubble of the Kirkwall rebellion. Still, that is no easy task. 

My battle is not over. But Andraste willing, I will no longer be strangled by my lyrium leash.


	13. 25th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

25th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

I write this by candlelight, before any sign of the dawn. Despite a rather steady and successful day yesterday, the night has proven to be quite something else. My aches are worse, my blood hums and quakes in answer to the song of lyrium, and my heartbeat pounds in my skull so hard that I feel the ground warping beneath my feet as though it were a part of a dream; but I know that I am awake. Sleep has eluded me all night long. My sheets are soaked through with my sweat and my stomach is reeling.

Am I doomed to face the insistent pull of the blue abyss forever? Every sign of improvement, and I tell myself this is it, surely I have found the path up to salvation; the way is clear. How wrong I am every blighted time. Perhaps the Maker has forsaken me, as he has all creatures of hubris and folly. That, or he truly has abandoned his creations. Or he never existed at all. I do not know anymore. 

I must do  _ something. _ It is simply selfish to continue this way. It is not just myself, but the Inquisition, who I swore to serve. My personal grievances should not be even a footnote in this sorry tale. I should resume lyrium. I  _ should. _


	14. 25th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon (Continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is later in the day after Cullen's bad night.

25th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon (continued)

There is no keeping secrets from Leliana. Once again my duties were pulled from underneath me. I have spent the majority of my day in the office, and not once has a single scout or soldier approached me with anything resembling paperwork. In fact, none of them have so much as knocked at my door. This coddling does not help me. It just slows down the daily running of the Inquisition. If they won’t let me do my job, then they need to find a replacement. 

I am afraid of just how close I am to breaking. I spent an entire hour staring at my lyrium kit, open in front of me on my desk, until it ended up on the other side of the room, contents spilled about. The vial didn’t break though. It is still there. Maker, the fact that the vial was my primary concern… 

The Inquisitor has returned. His party arrived two hours ago, at around three o’clock. I have yet to see him. I am not certain that I want him to see me like this, though his presence comes as something of a relief. Maker only knows why. 

I suspect that the other advisors are keeping him away with all manner of duties that almost certainly could wait. Perhaps it is a good thing, for now. I have much to tell him- none of it pleasant. I am anxious. Ha. An anxious Commander; I have been reduced to an oxymoron.

I will not approach him directly, but I will not cower and hide, either. I have _some_ dignity remaining, if only a sliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the next entry, I shall be posting a ficlet set between this one and the next. Not only for context, but I feel it needs to be written, and done so before this continues. Therefore, there may be a longer wait than usual before this fic updates (hopefully not too long though!) So I thank you in advance for your patience, and for your continued readership. It means the world to see that some other people enjoy my writing as much as I enjoy writing it. Much love! <3


	15. 27th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Long time no see for this particular fic! Since their first kiss is finally published (found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535722/chapters/64498165 ) I can now continue with our dear Cullen's personal thoughts, post first kiss.  
> I hope you enjoy this return :)

27th Firstfall 9:41 Dragon

I scarcely know where to begin. The Inquisitor has returned, and… I kissed him. And he kissed me. We’d been arguing over my self-pity which is now so abominable to me. We were both so impassioned, and before I knew it, my lips were on his. And it wasn’t bad. It was really rather wonderful actually. I know it should not have happened, and anything not strictly professional between us should be avoided; but I cannot. These feelings which I had denied for so long feel so firmly rooted that I could not hope to ignore them anymore, unless he bade me. 

I had never before considered that I might become enamoured with a man - and a mage, no less- it feels so very wrong in my head. But have I not been making every effort these past months to not to be a slave to mechanical obedience, and to welcome new perspectives? Have I not desired to be a man, as well as a commander, or an ex-templar? 

We spent the evening together in his quarters, sitting by the fire. I felt more relaxed than I had in a long time, in his arms. Maker’s breath, I never expected to say such a thing. Or to allow my walls to fall down even partially to the man, or anybody in fact. And like the almost unbearably thoughtful man he is, gave me his bed for the night. He slept on the chaise, after so long in bedrolls. That damned bed gave me the most peaceful sleep since I left my home in Honnleath. After a productive and pleasant day, returning to my own bed last night was a great shock to my muscles. 

Even more amazingly, with only some initial protest on my part, today he spent the entirety of his day by my side when he saw the poor state I was in. I would despair at not working, and lying about uselessly for so long- but he made it okay. I honestly cannot say how. He would not have my insistence. He knew how to help. He eased my aches and the burning inside of me from the lyrium song. When I could not eat he instead read to me, wiping my forehead with a damp cloth, and cooling me with his magical embrace when the sweats came. He fetched blankets when I started to shiver. He sat with me on the cold stone floor of my office through all of it. By the end of the day, I was able to hold down some bread and broth. As I write, he is preparing his room once more. I am sure I could manage my ladders with some effort, but he was insistent. I think perhaps I would not mind if he lay next to me as we slept. It _is_ his bed, after all.

He left me to follow him, blessedly. I simply had to write these things down, to clear my head. I do not know what is going to happen going forward. 

Andraste guide me, the future is so unknown. But I have faith in your herald. Would you not wish for me to let go of my ego, and listen to my soul as you did? Despite the outcry in the back of my mind, and perhaps that of others, I think you would. Who better to accompany me than your chosen? 

_Sigh._ This is very ridiculous.


	16. 30th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short update from the Commander as the month of Firstfall comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update today, as I try my very hardest to get back into writing.   
> Much love <3

30th Firstfall, 9:41 Dragon

I have been feeling better these past days, and was even permitted (I detest that it was necessary) to take on some of my more menial duties once again. I only wish it had been more than just paperwork. 

I have also accompanied the Inquisitor to the stables; I had missed my steed. It still baffles me that Trevelyan insists upon riding that great beast Kesri. Still, I suppose it does provoke a rather majestic image of him when he is seen riding; if the beast would only keep its mouth shut, that is. The great wails cut to my very bones. Expressing such drew an amused sort of indignation from the man, who then proceeded to comfort and reassure the hart that his ‘singing’ was ‘lovely’. If I didn’t know better I could have sworn that it became rather aloof with me after that.

There is little else to speak of, except for the fact I am now eating normally once again. I am therefore unwilling to be held back from my personal exercise any longer. I must keep my strength up, and regain the width to once more fill my trousers. 

I wish to leave much of the last month behind me. Not all of it, though. 


End file.
